


Glass Heart

by zenkai



Series: Glass Universe [1]
Category: Chinese Actor RPF, EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friends With Benefits, Friendship/Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Unreliable Narrator, Zhang Yi Xing | Lay-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 18:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15273738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenkai/pseuds/zenkai
Summary: The only proof of any of it ever happening was the lingering sting in Yixing’s chest that wouldn’t dissipate until morning came.Though the butterflies never really left.or,Yixing's heart struggles to leave the past while Sehun holds his hand all through it without questions.





	Glass Heart

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i wished i owned these boys but reality says otherwise. none of these are real events, and no offense directed towards EXO, SME, their family, and friends.
> 
> warning: contained feelings, unexplained relationships, cheesy stuff, flashes/mentions of ex-member departures lmfao
> 
> note: please understand that these are all from yixing perspective. take considerations that some flashbacks and other things explained from his perspective is made to be a little biased to his insecurities
> 
> another note: italics are flashbacks

 

Park Chanyeol is fastest; long limbs snatching a spot before the other two noisy bunch can. With the widest grin, claiming a space beside a forcefully seated Yixing while snaking an arm across Yixing's shoulder—ultimately adding unnecessary body weight (which isn't entirely welcomed but not necessarily a bad thing).

An award winning ex-roommate, Kim Jongdae, goes right to protest, playfully pressuring Chanyeol to get his flailing hands off Yixing. Well-acquaintanced with Yixing's personal need for a little space when he's really _really_ tired.

For Chanyeol, Yixing's face is too inexpressive to actually convey anything, but lets Jongdae pushes him away out of a knack to please, playing the eagerly obedient child.

'Some of us cleared up half a day, hyung,' Chanyeol answers happily, no longer physically hovering. His large foot tapping on the floor in a set rhythm as a way to exhaust repressed energy. 'Wanted to make time for you.'

Then Baekhyun swoops in, 'Yeah, and look at him now. Close to dying. Totally sharing Jongin's dead fish eyes, too.'

('Hey!' Jongin voices his protest from the kitchen.)

'None of us got dead fish eyes and I'm not dying,' Yixing quips in protest, then turning to Chanyeol to slightly give more attention all things considered. Not to mention that this overgrown man-child had looked so excited at the prospect of spending the day together—and Yixing only has two and a half days before he's flying back to china.

'If you say so,' he hears Baekhyun say.

(Not that any of them know what it means to be well rested anyways.)

This time Kyungsoo sags onto the couch, stealing Yixing's attention with way he's making himself comfortable by Yixing's side, pressing his fingers gently around Yixing's kneecap, thoughtful and amused. Kyungsoo's laugh is always on of the small list of Yixing's favourites.

Then there's Chanyeol. All seventy kilograms and almost two metres long, dumping himself right by Kyungsoo despite all the other empty spaces around.

Amidst that, their leader quickly intercepts with imbued authority, clearing his throat over the sound of Chanyeol's play-writhing from Kyungsoo's physical violation.

'You've been eating well, I hope?'

'Yeah. Yeah, I have.'

'You haven't been sleeping, though,' Junmyeon's brows are both raised as he says this.

It doesn't particularly feel like an interrogation, but Junmyeon's tone is invasive enough that a jumble of defensive words start to scratch at the back of Yixing's throat. 'I slept on the plane.'

'No, you close your eyes as it takes off. That doesn't count.'

'Jun—'

'Xing-hyung!' Baekhyun beats Yixing to it, tugging at Yixing's sleeve. He stares at Junmyeon innocently, dispelling the moment by hooking both of his arms over Yixing's with a little force. Baekhyun can't seem to decide between the nagging mother or the clingy puppy now that his nose is rubbing against Yixing's clothed shoulder, all for show as Yixing is being dragged away. 'You're welcome.' Baekhyun  whispers, grinning all too wide, then pats Yixing at the back before he scurries over to the help Chanyeol off in taming a physically playful Kyungsoo.

Yixing smiles in reprieve, being reminded of an environment he'd been constantly deprived for a while. By the next hour, he's half considering to tune all these barbarics out and just walk into his room to admire the peaceful silence in darkness—

But a taunting sight in his peripherals isn't so easily ignored even if he tried.

(Yixing could count blessings, even if it poised more like constant torture and awaiting mistakes.)

Yixing stares and stares. Watches all in rigid and repressed emotions, as Sehun comes down the staircase and joins in just a little late.

Their eyes meet once and in that brief exchange, Yixing sees them. A pretty pair of crescents, the highlights of his cheeks pulled into prominence when that set of thin lips quirk up into a warm smile, mouthing two simple words.

_Welcome home._

 

 

* * *

 

 

— 2011 —

_Luhan's strawberry soft cream was starting to drip from the edge of plastic cup and it started to irk Yixing. That, or he was just upset that Luhan was partnered with someone else. Again._

_'Oh Sehun.'_

_In his bewilderment, Yixing could barely even place a trainee with that name._

_But his best friend, Luhan—beautiful, annoying, and arguably the most popular chinese trainee in the building—elaborated nonetheless, 'they assigned teams of two for the next monthly evaluation. You got Oh Sehun—the kid who just got to advance dance class. Honestly, pay attention, Xing.'_

_'But I'm—why can't I have you instead?' his lower lip jutted out like that of a child's._

_'I'm with Kim Jongin. It's good, right? You should be familiar enough with Oh Sehun. The kid's always around when you hang with park Chanyeol after music class, anyway.'_

_'Yes, good,' Yixing repeated, not really meaning it. Now just catching the very topic walking right into the studio with all the grace a seventeen year old limbs could bring. 'He dances okay, so alright, yeah, good.'_

_Luhan laughed, the kind that accentuate those eye wrinkles. 'Try not to love me too much and be sociable with other people, Xing.' and before Yixing could spit out his generic backtalk, Luhan had cut him off with; 'no, spending time with Yifan isn't socialising. That dumb oaf is too weak for your princess look and would just cuddle with you to death. No.'_

_Yixing groaned, walking away from Luhan to where Sehun was standing, but not before he playfully quipped something he had initially meant;_

_'Yeah, well, at least Yifan doesn't talk my ear off about that new trainee girl you keep ogling. Creep.'_

_An exaggeration of sorts. Yixing never enjoyed a conversation revolving around himself. Anything else would do._

_Luhan knew that and indulged anyway._

_'I do not!'_

_'Do too!'_

 

 

* * *

 

 

After intense debate over the choice of dinner for that evening, Chanyeol ends up sitting between Yixing's legs by the carpet after switching the channel to a _sageuk_ Yixing has no recollection of ever agreeing to watch. Baekhyun fights everyone else like a possessed dog and claims Yixing's lap on the couch, while Jongdae sneakily fills the empty space Kyungsoo left (to heat some leftovers for tv nibbles because the others are useless, and it was hopeless to wait on them reaching agreement over what delivery order for the night) on Yixing's other side. And then there's a sleepy Minseok, monopolising that one squishiest armchair in the room and _nobody_ protests.

Baekhyun doesn't shy away from expressing affection nowadays (or ever), which is what drives Yixing into a sandwich between the three loudest humans in their crowd with no way out without being dragged back in or being nagged into it. Yixing is soft like that. Even when Chanyeol digs his perfect white teeth into the surface of Yixing's washed out jeans for amusement. Even when Baekhyun whines a Jongdae-like _aegyo_. Jongdae isn't too pleased over that and retaliates by going ultrasonic on them until Minseok shushes both dead with a solid whack on each head.

With everyone out in their shared living room, the farthest seated are the two youngest who are having fun inside their own bubble.

Jongin isn't offering much aside from sharing jokes and giggles into their conversation between the running episode (and occasionally puts up a pout and yells out his protest to counter anyone's witty remarks thrown at him), but his hand never left Sehun's; thumb stroking the back surface of the _maknae_ 's palm in the midst of their chatter, their shoulders pressed closely together, leaving no space for anything else, comfortable in each other's touch.

(not completely hidden, but enough not to draw attention.)

Yixing stomach churns, and that instinctively led him to print harsh nail shapes onto Baekhyun's tee, nudging him into sitting a tad higher up so Yixing can wrap his arms around Baekhyun's tinier frame. It's something Baekhyun always obliged to without questions—a makeshift comfort, _always_ a source of safe comfort—at least, Yixing prays, until he manages to kill the butterflies.

Just until then.

 

 

* * *

 

 

— 2014 —

_'Don't look so sad,' Luhan murmured to Yixing that one time the former was bedridden with an iv attached to his delicate wrist, their fingers softly linked over the silky blue sheet of Luhan's bed. 'I don't like that look on you.'_

_The sight of Luhan's gaunt cheeks had made something ugly stir in Yixing's stomach. Here, off stage and off camera, without a hint of makeup, Luhan looked unmistakably pitiful—hardly getting better with how so little time they spent out of work. He hated it, the same pattern in his nightmares, over and over again where his brain made up things; a place where Luhan went far—so, so far, until he was out of reach._

_(just like Yifan was.)_

_'Quit getting sick, then. I'll stop looking sad,' Yixing chided. 'Sehun is in our dorm all the time now, too, because of you.'_

_Luhan shifted a little to better his position on the puff mattress, looking straight at Yixing, 'I'm not sick. Just tired, Xing.' and there was that—because Luhan, for whatever reasons, never wanted to look frail and weak even when he looked just that._

_'Sehunnie came to give you the medicine from manager-hyung when you were asleep.'_

_Luhan nodded distractedly. 'He's such a hopeless goody two-shoes sometimes.'_

_Yixing's slight glaring brought about a smile on Luhan's face. 'Don't make fun of him. He's really worried.'_

_'Oh yes, I wail at his undivided attention over my wellbeing,' Luhan deadpans, his skinny cold fingers enclosed around Yixing's palm just distinctly out of habit._

_'You do that, but you like it when he gets worried.' Yixing's fingers fiddled around Luhan's, playing with their hold to keep Luhan's hand warm. 'You like it when I worry, too—it feeds your stuck up ego.'_

_'Wow,' the corner of Luhan's mouth upturned mischievously. 'With that smile you have on, I'm starting to think you actually enjoy feeding my ego. You shouldn't live to please me—I mean, imagine you being unable to do anything without me.'_

_(Thinking back, Yixing should have known that everything Luhan said had never been without meaning.)_

_'I can do just about everything easily and live without you,' Yixing found his voice, swift and unfiltered. When Luhan parted his mouth to throw another jab, Yixing shut him up fast with a grin, 'don't think I ever want to, though.'_

_A moment of silence before Luhan's nostrils swell in one exaggerated heave of breath to hike the mock frustration. It failed to serve when the edges of his lips betrayed him and twitched, his throat followed to beat out a melodic ring of laughter. Luhan just ended up coming down with a rough playful slap at Yixing's cheek._

_'God, so cheesy. Gross. Ew... Just fuck off.'_

 

 

* * *

 

  

Yixing's bed creaks again.

The dorm had gone very silent. Most of them had fallen into a coma-like sleep rather fast after the god knows how many bottle of soju they all downed under Baekhyun's experimental dare over two hours ago. Yixing, though, is now lying restless on his sides, and wide awake.

The mini stereo up on his desk is softly playing and a string of soft breathing hover right behind the shell of his ear that _almost_ made him whine and shudder at the same time.

His back is pressed against a familiar broad chest he'd come to know so well. A hand that isn't his own slides down to follow the curve of his waist, wrapping him close. A thumb soothes circles on the back of his hand. Lips ghosting the skin under his hairline. Some faint sleepy murmur slips out of that familiar mouth for him to hear but he can't make out anything when his own heart thrums too hard and too loud in his ear.

With those lips softly tracing his nape then pressing kisses along the curve between his neck and shoulder, Yixing shifts just a little desperately.

There's that urge to turn around, to absolve the jarring pretence of sleep the both of them know is faked, to bring that mouth into his own—but Yixing wills himself to not give in, if only for tonight.

Under public eyes; they hold hands, they share shoulders to lean on, their touch hangs long, they spoon for a show, and they even unintentionally lapsed into a kiss for the camera—but eventually the lines are blurred, changed from mere play to something they just do, a habit they can't quite let go.

When the stage door closes and they're all left to retreat into their own private space, away from any scream and demand of physical touches; that's where it starts.

In their dorm, a place where all of their dirty secrets tightly kept—away from even the eyes of their bandmates.

Too conscious.

Too wary.

They only have their share of secret nights, secret touches, undefined kisses, only have their moments under the quiet roof when everyone is deep in their sleep.

Unexplained. Unspoken.

Constant.

By the time he thinks he hears a shuffling sounding out his door, it's long past four a.m. And the wrapping warmth which held him throughout the night's already gone, leaving Yixing to curl around into his own body, willing himself to endure another dulling ache that just won't go away.

(Will it ever?)

 

 

* * *

 

 

— 2014 — 

_Anyone had to have been an idiot to not see the signs._

_It was very presumptuous of Yixing to claim to know Luhan best. But to him, the prattling hints were laid out for display in every little step Luhan took and every little thing Luhan did, as much as Luhan tried not to._

_'Xing, I'm your best friend… right?'_

_On Yixing's left, Luhan was quick to switch language after Minseok left the two of them for the kitchen, conveniently skipping off to leave the two, like an understanding partner, a knowing secret keeper—a different kind of comfort that, not once, Yixing had ever been to Luhan._

_And he caught those nervous brown eyes looking back at him; a little hesitant, cracked around the edges._

_It took a second slower than usual for Luhan to push again. 'Yes or no?'_

_Yixing heard it; do you have my back or not?_

_And it was such a silly, silly thing for Luhan to ever question._

_'Yeah, lu.' always._

_(and Yixing had meant it.)_

_The tension in Luhan shoulder ceasing just a little, less guarded but still there. Something was egging Luhan's mind and it bared—but to these things, Yixing was made a listener, never the one to fish out and pry, never the one they ask for advice, so he chose not to call Luhan out on it, rather to act distracted, putting up nonchalance to pry Luhan off his silent anxiety._

_'I love you,' said Luhan very suddenly, his head rested on Yixing's shoulder for further comfort._

_Those bits of insecurity slipping out under each word and Yixing was left alarmed. Yet still, as always, Yixing opted to return the given affection and snuggled into Luhan's warmth, easing a smile on his face, letting Luhan's fingers snuck under the blanket to link with his own, ever indulging._

_(and what is there of Yixing that he wouldn't give if Luhan had asked?)_

_Yixing remembered from those years ago, the first and last time they had allowed themselves drown in each other's touch—to feel, to belong.)_

_Yixing left a chaste kiss on Luhan's temple, a little afraid of what was to come._

 

 

* * *

 

  

'Motherfu—' Yixing blurts out instinctively, correcting himself for almost cursing, grasping his chest out of fright, but as he's walking closer to the kitchen and his eyes adjusting quickly in the dark, the tall silhouette is becoming more and more familiar. 'Sehun?'

Sehun's response at getting caught was an ugly sounding snort, his head still hidden behind the opened snack cabinet before his head peeking out with a frown full of distrust, 'don't tell manager-hyung.'

The lid of their cabinet still creaks when closed, and like a child, Sehun makes a face, practically scolding the inanimate. His ass is back on the high stool in no time, now munching on some mini packs of royce chocolates which Yixing knows are most likely, almost definitely, Jongdae's.

'Understood,' says Yixing, failing to suppress a smile. 'What's with the dim lights, though?'

'Ambience,' Sehun answers, brusquely half joking (Yixing only assumes, because either way Sehun's face never really changed).

The plastics and aluminiums covers are crumpled neatly on their kitchen island granite. All that sugar intake will result in something, if not maybe long talks. Sehun is unpredictable when sugary stuff or alcohol is present.

'You're not —?' Yixing gestured the whole apartment, making a point on how empty it is. 'Aren't everyone else on schedule tonight?'

Sehun tries to tidy the mess by gathering them all in one spot but gives it a second thought and leaves it—a habit that comes from frequenting Junmyeon's company, Yixing thinks.

'It's just a small session with kasper-hyung's team. I tapped in longer than the others like days ago so I could have more freetime this week. And I knew hyung will be alone here, so.'

Either Sehun got off by pulling some strings or he was lying, Yixing wasn't fooled. Group session always meant the whole participant attendance is mandatory, but Yixing sees no point on mentioning it.

'That's too bad. I actually like being left alone,' Yixing had meant it as a joke, even pouted to make it dramatic.

Despite that, Sehun blinks, unreadable, the way he often does in Yixing's eyes.

'That, you do,' he says, body language poised with enough confidence to look both cocky and serious. 'But that doesn't mean I can't be selfish enough to want you around.'

The words weigh like rocks placed on Yixing's chest. Heavy. Daunting. Makes it hard to breathe—and Yixing hatesit. Still, it doesn't deter him from feigning casualty; something he's tried so hard to do since the very start, that shifting his heart away from dangerous waters will save him the coming heartbreak.

'Enough with the chocolates. They make you say weird things.'

What gets his heart jolting wasn't a snarky comeback he thought he was going to get, but a spontaneous grin winding up Sehun's lips—and those eyes that have gone and turned into the mirrored crescent Yixing has come to adore so much. This kind of whiplash is really making it hard to control his expression.

'So,' Sehun is opening another one of Jongdae's collection, this time chocolate liqueur Sehun stole from someone's stock. 'How's Luhan?'

The question comes unexpected, but not overreaching.

Luhan and Yixing had met not too long ago. Had just recently been declared to be _publicly on speaking terms_ by fans. The question Sehun posed though, has nothing to do with that. Luhan never once cut contact with Yixing in any ways—the secret phone calls, hidden messages, the times Yixing snuck in a few times to Luhan's place when he's in Beijing; the members have long known all about it.

'He's alright,' Yixing chooses to say.

When it's nothing but a sound of chewing on Sehun's end. Yixing dares himself to ask, 'Why? You miss him?'

The answer is fast, 'Yes and no.'

'Yes or no,' Yixing pushes.

Sehun looks up from his bar of nibbles to meet Yixing's eyes. 'You tell me.'

'Well, I'm asking,' Yixing tries, unsatisfied, his fingers fiddle with the loose thread around the hem of his own oversized sweater.

'Technically, I did answer,' Sehun says back, turning back to his sweets.

'You're so frustrating.'

'Says the most stubborn person on the planet. Want some?' Sehun offers up the sweets on his hand, effectively shifted the topic just to dangle more stuff between his fingers, and neatly put on his left is a bottle of merlot from Minseok's liquor cabinet. 'Here. Sit, hyung.'

Yixing beckons towards him, albeit a little confused with the fast pace conversation. 'They're going to kill us, later.'

'Well, not smart enough to put all this in the kitchen for me to steal. So, their loss.'

After that it isn't much about the chocolate, the alcohol, or anything Sehun is shoving in front of him, but the proximity between them.

They spend three hours in the kitchen just like that, under the dim light, drinking, talking, not out of necessity, just a company of comfort.

'Look, it's bruised.' Sehun pouts, showing his forearm, the aftermath of Baekhyun's bite, yellow and greenish, and Yixing smiles at the image and the probability on how that came to happen.

'Wow,' Yixing expresses in surprise. 'Baekhyun really didn't hold back.'

'As if. You being gone, not a chance. You gotta see the ones on my thighs, hyung.'

After hours, the conversation still hovers just a little on the surface, never too deep. It's about Sehun's past time. It's about Yixing's songs, Yixing's days in china. It's about Jongdae's fight last week with Chanyeol, about Jongin having a fit over Sehun stealing his favourite shirt, about Junmyeon frustration for failing to reach a note, about Kyungsoo's distress, about Baekhyun missing his family.

But the real sentence lingers. Too long hanging on the edge of Yixing's tongue, never has it in him to sound the words out. Not like this, when it's just the two of them, where a single word might just reveal a little too much, one touch and the wall might just crack.

_(I miss you.)_

'I should sleep,' Yixing says.

_(but his feet is rooted down and he can't bring himself to get up.)_

They're not openly close the way Yixing is close friend with Baekhyun or Jongdae, they're not effectively affectionate the way Junmyeon or Jongin is with Sehun—but at times like these that Yixing appreciates the most, because with Sehun, he doesn't need words, and most times it feels just enough.

'You should, yeah,' is what Sehun say.

_(but his hand doesn't leave Yixing's.)_

Like a coin is two sided, his feelings is, too.

So when he finds Sehun's fingers somehow treading lightly into his hair, Yixing can't help but meet Sehun's gaze—perhaps the alcohol, perhaps it's the sluggishness, but Yixing thinks he can see something flicker in Sehun's eyes.

There's hesitance, too.

But the pressure in his chest bleeds out as he feels Sehun's lips on his own, soft, a little chapped—it tastes both sweet and bitter like chocolate and coffee—it's soft and slow, it lulls him in, and Yixing finds himself tilting his head, inviting for more.

It's not their first.

They've kissed once, twice, perhaps ten, twenty, too many times—he's lost count, chaste or otherwise.

But like this, right now, Yixing is _scared_.

(when they first started this, it had been just for distractions, an outlet of sorts—purely physical—it meant absolutely nothing.

Now he doesn't know what it means when Sehun intertwined their fingers and kisses Yixing even when the audience is next to none, with no reasons, no excuses, and no pain to soothe away.

But still, Yixing won't ask why.

He can't.

Not when this thin thread between them may just break and Yixing just can't bear to lose what already so little he has.

Never again.)

Unfair, because when it comes to Sehun, Yixing is weak.

Unfair, because Yixing knows when morning comes, it's going to end.

 

 

* * *

 

 

— 2015 — 

_'Tao's filing it. The lawsuit.'_

_Yixing didn't turn to look even a little surprised when Sehun told him like it was just another recurring incident. There was no better way to reveal it, but it was hardly a surprise. Yixing had seen it coming from miles before—and seen the mirrored regret on Luhan months before. The lot of them did._

_Amidst the silence, it was Sehun's hand that caught his attention next, tidy fingers and evenly trimmed nails—unlike Yixing's and Chanyeol's from the frequent guitar strummings—tapping on familiar beats along the metal fences while the other hand, his cigarette._

_They're on the top of rooftop case, Yixing's guitar was long abandoned in favour of himself lying sideways comfortably against Sehun shoulder._

_'Soo said Baekhyun is crying,' Sehun didn't address the topic directly, choosing to replay this new content of their group chat on his phone instead—even slipping a light laugh at the end of his sentence. 'Myeon-hyung dropped the news on him, drunk, and probably crying, too.'_

_'At least he's not as bad as Minseok,' Yixing said, snatching the cigarette on Sehun for himself. 'He's a bubble of raw emotions after four bottles of soju.'_

_'Baekhyun only had two shots.'_

_Yixing burst out laughing, the smoke burn his throat. The rest burnt out idly between his fingers. He's got this particular dislike for the aftertaste, knows very well what it does to his lungs, yet he never made a point to stop when his stress reached this deep—it was one of a habit the both of them had developed._

_'We're down to nine,' Sehun suddenly said, his tone flat. 'Three more to go and it's half of us. Can't wait.'_

_Yixing couldn't laugh at that—too soon, still raw—probably would've had given some reaction out if he wasn't so entranced with how the world works—bad things happening at once (because apparently the universe deemed last year wasn't horrible enough)._

_He did react more, however, when a hand yanked at him and a pair of lips were on his; warm, soft, and more appealing than the city night sky Yixing was so very tired of looking at._

_'You're cold,' Sehun's words were only tad above a whisper against Yixing's lips._

_It was only half the truth, but Yixing chose not to say because he knew where this was going. Yixing's lashes fluttered from the wind, eyes droopy. This close, Sehun felt so warm against his skin._

_They weren't apart for very long. Sehun kissed him again, this time with a little more fervor, a little forceful, his grip on Yixing waist was wanting._

_'Sehunnie—' Yixing's voice was a shade of breathless when Sehun's hand slipped under Yixing's shirt, his mouth trailing on Yixing's jaw. 'Not here,' the soft words were said to indulge, because Sehun had been gentle, kind, affectionate person on his best days—so Yixing played along with this pretense; that those telltale of tears welling in Sehun's eyes were unseen. That the way Sehun sucked a breath, trying to hold on to a sliver of anything that would keep him from breaking, because Sehun was soft hearted, because Tao had been_ Sehun _'s person—because even if their parting was for the best and with a smile willingly given, these losses left wounds._

_So when the door to Yixing's room was slammed close behind them, Yixing let his lips be had however Sehun needed it. Let himself be pressed against the bed the way Sehun wanted it. Let his voice cry out to every desperate touches just the way Sehun liked it._

_A fair turn, right?_

_(because when Yixing lost Luhan, who was it that managed to put him back together?)_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Alone, under the darkness of his room, Yixing recall a lot of things.

The fact that normally, their oldest member, Kim Minseok, never cried for himself. Never did when he was barely given words in notes he could sing, barely had part in choreography he could pull, barely a bite to lines he could do.

He never did when he was told he was fat, unfit, unattractive. Not a single tear when an eighteen year old Yixing witnessed the way Luhan's strained voice trying to reach out, _stop, stop, don't vomit them out, please, please, please, Minseok, don't_ —

The company taught him so well—too well—a disposable obedient doll moulded to bring in billions and billions of nominals. And Kim Minseok never complained.

He did cry once, however.

At least, Yixing thought he did, if the red rimmed eyes Minseok sported the morning after Luhan took off were any indication.

Even through all those gummy smiles and giggles, Luhan's name was never again heard from Minseok's mouth after that.

For years, by the corner of Minseok's nightstand had always been a white box Luhan once given him. Inside it, a simple watch Luhan bought for Minseok's birthday in their trainee days—overseeing the fact that Luhan was short on money and Minseok never wore any—but Minseok never trade it for anything, never store it away, always kept clean, always there.

(Yixing never saw it again.)

If one thing Yixing understood now is that sort of pain doesn't really go away.

It stays and scars, clawing at you with each distant memory that doesn't really fade.

And Yixing just doesn't think he will ever be ready for that.

 

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments would be most welcomed thanks lol


End file.
